Sun bows to black skies
as the candlelight vigil begins.
Only yesterday it seems we raced
down winding roads; wind
running through our hair as we leapt
over tendrils of sand
snaking along the pavement.
My hands act aged, not mine anymore
tremble like a newfound widow's
as I ignite my candle's wick.
The warmth caresses stained cheeks,
quells the longing dwelling within
licks my spirit's wounds.
The flame, a brilliant blue,
won't extinguish in a pool of wax
so long as you resist "us"
and I still burn for you.
